


Five Sidesteps Harry Sullivan Never Made

by calapine



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Peter Pan - J. M. Barrie, Stargate SG-1, X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Harry Sullivan/Daniel Jackson, Harry Sullivan/Lucius Malfoy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:08:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23925916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calapine/pseuds/calapine
Summary: Five things in five universes that never happened to Harry Sullivan.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	Five Sidesteps Harry Sullivan Never Made

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LiveJournal in 2004.

_Any sufficiently advanced magic..._

Because the Doctor was off to speak to Dumbledore about something very hush-hush and Sarah had opted to go with him, Harry found himself alone in Diagon Alley with a handful of galleons in his pocket, and a smile on his face.

It wasn’t every day he got to explore the secret world of magic on Earth.

He didn’t really notice the odd looks, because he was used to it. You tended to attract more attention when you were the only biped around, rather the only one wearing Muggle clothing. Odd word, thought Harry. But then this was an odd world.

It was whilst he was in Flourish and Blott’s, reading a text named Basic Potions for Magical Maladies that he realised one of the wizards was watching him. Had been watching him since he left the Doctor, he realised.

Harry wasn’t subtle, least of all when he tried to be. So he wasn’t surprised to see the raised eyebrow as he surreptitiously tried to watch the wizard over the edge of the book.

Of course, after that, he had to say something. Didn’t he?

The rules here were different, but Harry was sure manners still applied.

“Hello, I’m Harry Sullivan,” he said as genially as he could. Still wondering why this man had been following him.

“Lucius Malfoy,” replied the wizard. The voice was cold, aristocratic. He accepted Harry’s hand in his own gloved one. Releasing it quickly a moment later.

An awkward silence, and Harry was tempted to ask...but, no, that would be simply rude.

“I noticed your arrival earlier today,” said Malfoy. “With a young woman and...”

“The Doctor,” supplied Harry.

“Yes, of course,” and Malfoy smiled. It did nothing to warm his eyes. “The Doctor. Quite eccentric, isn’t he?”

“Well, yes, rather.”

“And you travel with him?” How much sharper the voice was now. How cutting.

“Well, I didn’t exactly know what I was getting into.”

“Mr Sullivan, I’m delighted to make you acquaintance,” said Malfoy. And this time Harry returned the smile. “Do, please, let me buy you a drink.”

Harry accepted. Of course he did. He was fully prepared for mortal danger, a navy man, after all, but facing the worst that the universe could throw at him and still cheerfully call Sarah ‘old girl’ wasn’t easy.

So he said yes when he was invited back to Malfoy’s mansion.

And he said yes when he was invited to Malfoy’s bed.

And it wasn’t until he was back at the TARDIS that he wondered why Malfoy had had so many questions about the Doctor.

It was a bit insulting, really.

_But I thought Horus was one of the good guys..._

Politics sucks.

It’s the only reason he’s here. Have to be nice to England. Have to let them in on a few secrets. Have to send over one of their doctors to...what? What is he doing here? It’s not as if there’s suddenly a shortage of doctors in the air force.

The Brit is polite and reserved. He smiles and nods. Cautiously interested in everything you say. Never over-whelmed, never impressed. Stupid British stiff upper lip. Or something.

You tell him you’ve saved the world. A lot. And he’s so damn polite about it. You suspect he has to stop himself from shrugging. No big deal then, saving the world. But what the hell has he done?

“Ready for your first trip, Sullivan?” you ask. Just a little smugly. Because you know he’s never been through the Stargate before, and he’s finally looking a little nervous. Good.

“So this thing can take us anywhere in the universe?” Sullivan asks.

“Not exactly,” says Carter. “We can only open worm holes to other gates located in this galaxy.”

“Oh.” He sounds relieved. “And you understand how it works?”

You’re afraid Carter’s going to launch into a long explanation, one that you’ve already hear, but she just nods.

“Splendid,” says Sullivan, and you roll your eyes.

+++

You only ever refer to him by his name when he’s in the room. At all other times he’s the medic. The Brit. The new boy. The intruder.

It isn’t really the accent that annoys you, more the fact that he says ‘gosh’ a lot.

“Do we really need a doctor?” you ask Carter one day, and she just shakes her head. Of course she doesn’t agree. She likes him, for god’s sake.

But then, Daniel’s worse. A lot worse. You have to pretend not to notice how much time he’s spending in the infirmary. And you definitely can’t casually wander into Daniel’s office when the doors are closed anymore.

Not after last week. Not after you saw them kissing.

Daniel tried to talk to you afterwards. Saying your name, a lot. Like that’s some sort of explanation.

But you weren’t really listening. Stupid Brit.

You asked Hammond what he was doing here. Asked why him. But the General couldn’t, no, he wouldn’t tell you. Something about the United Nations. Something about alien invasions. Something about politics, he said.

And you know damn well that politics suck.

_There’s no point in being grown-up..._

When Harry Sullivan was a little boy, he wanted to be a doctor. Because they did good things. And everyone liked them.

It therefore came as some surprise to him when he woke up in Neverland, and found that it was not quite his Neverland. There were pirates, and fairies, and Indians. Like some Edwardian nightmare.

Still, he explored and could find nothing to interest him until he heard the clash of steel against steel. Swords! A battle!

Little Harry ran forward, pushing his way through the undergrowth, all green and slippery, until he came upon a sandy cove. And there, dancing amongst the shells, were a boy and pirate dancing with blades. For a moment, he found it exciting, until he spotted the first teardrop of blood upon the sand. Then another and another.

Blood, everywhere.

He wanted to run out, to tell them to stop fighting, but they were too fast. Too vicious.

Harry turned away, determined to leave this terrible place.

He made it a mere half dozen steps before the still night was pierced with a scream, from the pirate; a laugh of triumph from the boy echoed on after it had ended.

It took Harry only moments to return to the cove.

And there lay the pirate, no sign of the boy. He was on the ground, his left arm cradling his right. Harry approached, carefully, one eye on the sword that lay just within reach of the pirate.

“Come to finish me off? asked the fallen man.

“No, sir, I came to attend to your wounds.”

That made sense. That must be why he was here. If only he had been in his own Neverland with his hospital, and his ambulances and his operating theatre.

But no, there was just him now. Just Harry.

“May I see?” he asked, friendly smile. Reassuring voice. He knew the importance of a good bedside manner. For a moment, those forget-me-not blue eyes held his, before the pirate released his right arm for Harry’s inspection.

He had to bite his lip to keep from voicing his disgust. For there was no hand, only a bloody stump.

And Harry had never seen so much blood before.

Quickly, he took off his dressing gown off and tore a strip of cloth from it. He bound it round the stump, knowing that he had to stop the blood flow. Warm, sticky red flowed easily over his hands. But he was a doctor, he wasn’t squeamish. He’d do his job. He tied off the cloth, and checked it was secure.

“There’s nothing else I can do,” he said helplessly, looking to the fallen pirate.

But he wasn’t sure if the man could hear him. The blood loss, the shock of losing a hand...and there was another sound now.

Harry looked out to sea, and there, moving into shore was a rowboat. He could hear the oars hitting the water steadily. More pirates...they would take care of this one surely?

But Harry didn’t know a great deal about pirates, and they really didn’t seem to be a friendly sort.

Perhaps best to make a hasty exit. Try and find his way home.

Harry ran.

_When it comes to death, quantity is so much more satisfying..._

Moments passed, and still the Doctor waited. Harry wasn’t even sure that the Time Lord could see the wires he held anymore.

“Do I have the right?” he asked again.

“We have to go, Doctor.” But he still wasn’t getting through. Could the Doctor hear him? “We have to find, Sarah, remember? Mr Sinister...”

“Harry,” and he was there again. He could see, his eyes alive. “Harry, if someone pointed out a child to you, and told you that that child would grow up to kill millions...”

“Now’s not the time for that old chestnut, Doctor. I don’t know. I wouldn’t now until I was there. Until it mattered. But I do know that Sarah’s in danger and that we have to find her.”

Still the Doctor ignored her name, and his eyes were back on the wires. “Cerebro could be used for good. And it will, at first. Hundreds of mutants will find better lives because of it. Escape persecution, even death.”

“Doctor, what about Sarah!” His voice was strained and he was looking over his shoulder too often. Too many long corridors. Completely open, if any of them found out what they were doing...

...but, of course they would know. Some of them were telepaths. Where were they?

“But the Time Lords have seen a time when its power could encompass the universe...imagine that. The whole of existance held hostage to a single will. A single thought.” And the Doctor looked up at him, his hand shot out and grabbed his shoulder. The eyes bored into him. “And what if that thought is to destroy, Harry? What if?”

“Doctor, please, we have to go, we can’t...”

He was cut off by a blast of red energy hitting the floor in front of him. Together, they jumped back, though an instant later the Doctor was scrambling to pick up the broken wires.

“I can’t let you do it,” called a voice form the corridor perpendicular to the one they were crouched in. “I can’t let you kill the Professor.” Harry recognised the voice as that of Scott Summers, Cyclops.

“Harry, get out of here,” hissed the Doctor. “Here.” He reached into one of those pockets and pulled out the TARDIS key, pressing it firmly into his companion’s hand. “Take this and find, Sarah.”

“What about you? What are you going to do?”

“Don’t worry, just go!” And a second blast hit the corridor floor, closer to the wires this time. And Harry noticed how the wires brightened momentarily. If it was just a few inches closer...

“We’ll meet you at the TARDIS, Doctor,” Harry said, turning away.

He pelted down the corridor and tried to remember that the Doctor knew what he was doing.

He always knew.

Time for Harry to be a hero and rescue Sarah.

_Fear makes companions of us all..._

Harry could not hold his breath any longer; surely they would be far enough away by now. Surely. Surely.

He could hear them scrambling through the ruins. And he knew they were tracking him. Here, at least, the rotting corpses disguised his scent. If the way out was safe now, it would not be for long. Others would be here shortly, hunting for the few humans left.

The streets around the last home he expects to ever have had become busier these last few days, and he suspected that that they were closing in on them. That they knew where the attacks were coming from.

It was always a relief to make it home. This time though, he was afraid. Because he was returning alone. His protector, his friend, was dead.

Just one more blow to their preciously fragile morale.

And this meant everyone else would fight all the more. But you didn’t need to be a doctor to see that they were reaching breaking point.

They liked to think of it as a disease. It helped, he supposed, to see it in scientific terms. It meant it was something they could understand, something they could fight. Something they could find a cure for. And Liz hadn’t left the lab in days. They left food for her outside the door and hoped she remembered to sleep.

Yesterday she had been furious. It was the new survivor they had found. It had only taken a few minutes to confirm he wasn’t infected before he started babbling on about magic and demons and the Apocalypse. Of course, Lethbridge-Stewart thought it was a load of nonsense. And Liz told them all to stop wasting her time by making her listen to madmen. But Harry...Harry hadn’t seen science help them yet, and he was beginning to wonder if this Rupert Giles was right.

“Harry, Harry, what are you doing skulking about down there?”

The voice was like ice, but he recognised it anyway.

There she was, standing on the slope above where he was hiding. Even in the moonlight, he could see her pale skin, taut across the bones of her face.

“Harry,” she repeated, coming closer, and though the voice was soothing, he was startled out of complacency by the complete absence of warmth that he so associated with it.

“Stay back!” he warned, reaching into his pocket to pull out a cross. The other hand was clasped tightly around his last stake. “Please, stay back...” because he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t.

“Oh, Harry, you look so cold, so lost. Come here, Harry, come. Talk with me awhile.”

“I can’t,” he said, shaking his head, backing away. He felt the hard surface of the wall against his back. And she was getting closer.

The others could return any moment. And he doubted they would show quite the same level of interest in taunting him.

She was close now, so close he could see her eyes. Watching him, the gentle smile on her face. “Harry.” And the eyes were dead. Dead. Dead. He kept repeating, a mantra because there was no choice here if he wanted to live.

It took only a moment for him to plunge the stake into her.

“I’m so sorry, Sarah,” he whispered as she fell.

Not quite the heart, but close enough.

He left her screaming at the dark.


End file.
